Rook
by Phases Of Obsession
Summary: One day while at the park, a little puppy follows Anatoly home. Madness ensures. Anatoly/Florence


Hello! The Crazy Sisters deserves a shout-out for sorta giving me the idea after they had Anatoly with a dog in their fic (though in a completely different context). I hope you enjoy. Please review!

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own it. Just like Idina Menzel is my lullaby slave.

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Anatoly jogged through the local park. Ever since he and Florence had moved back to their quaint apartment in England, he has been trying to go at least a half of a mile a day, minus chess match weekends. He really enjoyed them, and his doctor did too.

This particular day, there was a light drizzle and an even lighter breeze. It felt nice, the cool feeling coating him. But one thing that was strange was an odd smell, like a soiled pickle was following him. He turned around, and there walked a raggedy puppy. He flicked his hands at it. "Shoo! Go home! Back!" But the the dog persisted in dogging him.

It was beginning to get dark, and Florence would worry if he wasn't home soon, so he started heading back, ignoring the creature tailing him. He opens the second door on the left, his apartment, and too his surprise the puppy dashes in through his legs.

He yells at it to get it out, but to no avail. He is about to shove it out with his foot when he hears Florence's shout: "Don't-you-_dare_-hit-that-puppy!"

He turns around, and, judging by the flaming eyes of his fiancée, he was in trouble. "Flo, I wasn't going to hit him, I was just going to…push him out, yes, push him."

"You'd kick this poor little orphan puppy out? I didn't realize you were that heartless!" she yells, cuddling up to the little beast.

Anatoly sighs. He won't win this one. "I'm sorry. How about I call the pound to pick it up-"

"Hell no!" She tightens her hold on it, as a mother would their child. "You nearly beat him, and yet you still have the nerve to try and kick him out? Really, Anatoly!" She picks up the dog and carries him across the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going to give _our_ new dog a bath!"

A few hours later, Anatoly sits on the bed watching TV with Florence…well, without Florence since she was in puppy induced la-la land. She cooed over him in that unneeded baby-talk and that dog just lapped it up while Anatoly growled. Normally, at this time of night, they would be in full-fledged French kiss mode. But, _no_. That stupid dog had to bump in and wreak their schedule.

"Anatoly?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the thing. "I need to ask you something."

"Yes, I think we should get rid of the dog," he answered, hoping that that was her question.

She grabbed a small pillow and flinged it at his head. "No! Quit being so grumpy…I wanted to know what you thought we should name him."

"How about 'Dog'?"

She glared at him. "You know, you could at least _act_ a little enthusiastic for me."

He pasted a fake cheery smile on his face and chirped, "Well, how about we name him Mister Flower Sunshine!"

"_Anatoly_."

"Fine…How about 'Chess'?"

She quieted down for a minute before shaking her head. "No, that's kinda weird. But I like the idea...Wait! I've got it! 'Rook'!"

"Sounds good…Can you put him on the floor? I want to go to sleep."

"Fine."

At last, Anatoly was getting his reward for putting up with the dog. It was who-knows how late, and Florence was lying on top of him, unbuttoning his pajama top, when she giggled and said, "I like the licking. What's up with that?"

Anatoly's face scrunched up and he replied, "I'm not licking you."

"What?" She turned the light on and there sat Rook, trying to lick Florence's face. She smiled. "Aww! Is Mr. Rookie giving Mommy kisses?" I rolled my eyes and mumbled some Russian curses. "What was that?"

"Nothing dear…"

"It better be. This is our metaphorical son. I want to have kids one day. If I can't rely on you with a dog, then how can I with a child?"

"Ah!...Uh…" Damn. He has lost for the second time that day. He just sighed and rolled over, and he heard Florence say:

"Thought so."

"Florence!" Anatoly called out, getting up from off the floor, where he was previously crouched down, looking under the bed. "You're damn dog has eaten my king! It was my favorite set, now it's ruined!"

Florence came out of the kitchen, her face completely unsympathetic. "And how do you know that _he_ ate it? You probably just misplaced it-"

"No, I did _not_ misplace it!" he yelled, shocking Florence. "That _thing_ ate it!"

"You know, one day you're gonna love that thing, I guarantee it," she murmured and walked back into the other room.

"Aren't you going to help me!"

"Help your own damn self!" she screamed.

"Well, fine, you useless-"

He was then cut off by a string of Hungarian cuss words that she normally only used whenever she stubbed her toe. He shook his head a little and went back to looking. It was when he had his arm shoved under the dresser when he heard a scratching noise. He tried to ignore it, but it was persistent, not to mention annoying, and he looked up to find the dog pawing at the vacuum cleaner. Anatoly rolled his eyes and continued his search. But the puppy kept on for ten minutes, and it just got on Anatoly's nerves. He went over to it, thinking it lost its treat to the vacuum earlier today when Florence had her routine Sunday scrub down. He pulled the dirt compartment out and sitting there, covered in dust and other debris, was Anatoly's king.

He looked over at Rook, who was just sitting there with his doggy grin, and gave it-no, him- a pet on the head. He pocketed his chess piece and went to the coat hanger, where a little checkered leash hung. He grabbed the leash, hooked it onto Rook's collar, and called out to Florence, "I'm taking Rook for a walk!"

And Anatoly knows, as he's skipping down the hall, Rook jumping around his heels, that Florence is smirking and thinking, '_I told you so'_.


End file.
